Wordless
by WorriesAreForSquares
Summary: There isn't an absolute need for words to experience a life changing moment. A/A Drabbles. R&R!
1. Holding Hands

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They walk down a paved road, shoulders minimum distance apart, without speaking.

To a bystander, all is quiet at the surface, but she is faring a raging war in her mind. He - simply pleasantly uncomfortable. The otherwise unpopulated area sparks the caution and eeriness of such habit. He's unconsciously watchful for a movement or sound that foreshadows trouble.

She reasons and chides, but nervousness and self-consciousness consumes all, until finally the unusual sharp yearning overcomes sense and emotion.

Her small hand reaches out tentatively, attempting a steady climb down his forearm to a large, pale hand.

He flinches lightly, something only the person touching him could feel.

A touch in his private reverie of dreams makes him immediately jump to the conclusion of failure. He is caught and has been sloppy because he has become too comfortable. That makes him remember the source of the comfort.

That comfort owns the warm, soft and small hand of which its touch is constantly speculated and longed for. Yes, he had once restrained her arms to an uncomfortable lawn chair so she wouldn't hit anything around her, including herself. They had also shared a kiss in the hotel lobby on the job, but those moments were mixed with dreams, and dreams left room for speculation and a lack of specificity.

On the other hand, this moment that is almost its complete opposite, seems so ordinary it can't be real. This must be some dream, surely? He halfheartedly attempts to assure himself.

The brutal 'kick' hits him seconds later.

Her hand suddenly comes to life, forced to retreat by a pain like a fog inside her. A pain that pushes a sourceless weight on her chest and threatens to force closed her airways.

The feeling is alien to her. She quickly tilts her head away to conceal how deeply she is hurt by such rejection and tries to cover the burnt hand at her side. She is retreating back into her shell.

She doesn't see his eyes, normally controlled and emotionless, come to life with intense regret and a singe of self berating. She also doesn't see the sudden righteousness that sets in his stare as he realizes with a jolt as he, the point man, remediates the situation immediately. However, what she does see is the soft companionship and affection in his gaze for the second their eyes meet. He sends her a sly, sideways glance that meets her surprised stare when he snatches her hand from her timid stance.

She gives a small, nervous smile and feels her body gain warmth once more. The implied 'yes' makes his heart squeeze.

Hands intertwined, content smiles on their faces, they walk on.

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A/N Thank You once again to my Beta Rompien.

Don't forget to R&R! They are very much appreciated.


	2. Check Up

A/N Thanks so much to iblametheNargles and kaptainmad for your reviews! They were very much appreciated :)

When I published the first chapter, I wasn't sure whether I would want to continue, but suddenly, I was struck with inspiration and I have many ideas for the chapters to come. I hope you enjoy !

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Arthur stood on the side of the Parisian street facing the college. A lecture had just ended and a great number of students were exiting the grounds.

In appearance, the two were very apparent opposites. The point man was walking crisply with purpose, his dark suit and tie in place, while the throng of students ambled along without a set destination wearing comfortable jeans and sweaters. Some were in pajamas even, having to have chosen between arriving on time or getting dressed. It had been years since Arthur had worn such clothes in public.

The lights changed and he crossed the street, clashing with the now jovial group. They were too close for comfort even if this was only for a few seconds, and he swiftly evaded each errant elbow and expressive hand, seemingly without effort, an afterthought. At the forefront of his mind was the task at hand, namely to have an informative conversation with professor Miles on a certain architect.

He was conscious that part of the reason for this plan of action was that he was avoiding the pretty woman like the plague, but for the majority, this is what he did. He gathers information on a subject without their knowledge, and then he makes decisions. He interviews the crew instead of watching the big show.

He didn't like thinking about her as a subject, though. It seemed... wrong. He only needed to get an appraisal of her mental well-being; to be sure she wasn't too affected by her first job to keep building after all.

Arthur could count the number of times he had been to see Miles at his workplace on one hand, yet he knew that the old man could usually be found in his classroom. As he came closer and closer to the entrance of the latter, his sense of purpose increased until suddenly he was reaching for the handle, covering the cold metal with his large hand and carefully turning it with a controlled force. He silently opened the door and took a step forward but stopped short once his eyes finished evaluating the room.

The only person inside was the one he had come to see about, rather than the person he had come to see. She sat at the middle of the furthest isle, her face tilted to the bishop that lay faced down on the desk. Arthur watched her without emotion as she picked the bishop up and let it fall a dozen more times. According to her schedule, she presently had a class. The urge to approach her, to show her that he was here for her, that he hadn't forgotten, almost took over his lean body. He managed to keep his business facade. She was very good at what she did, and that wouldn't change for a long time, yet if she missed classes to grasp the fact that she was in reality, then he must wait a little while longer to bring her back to his world, if she still wanted it, of course. But right now she wasn't okay.

He left as silently as he came.

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A/N Please don't forget to Review!


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